


Just For A Day

by Shaish



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Because I like that term better, Birthday, Cute, De-Serumed Steve Rogers, Domestic, Dorks, Fluff, Fun, Gen, Happy Birthday, Lookit this photograph, M/M, New Year, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Playing, Shrinkydinks, Steve and Bucky Take A Day Off, birthday gift, deserumed steve rogers, for once, happy new year, play, shrinkyclinks, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9142186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaish/pseuds/Shaish
Summary: It's Steve's late birthday. Or is it Bucky's?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZimaAktivov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZimaAktivov/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift for Zima (who has the coolest birthdate like? ?? The last day of the year that's so cool). I HOPE IT'S ALRIGHT ZIMA. I tried to include things you mentioned you liked. HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY. <3  
> I'm the only one who proof read this so if there's errors I am sORRY.

He pounds the bag with his fists, tape stretched across his knuckles, a light coat of sweat making the edges curl slightly, become more ragged. He focuses on his breathing, the pounding of his heart in his ears, the sliver of the inhale, the _whoosh_ of the exhale. In. Out. In. Out. The reinforced bag swings on its reinforced chain attached to the ceiling, joining the cacophony of the sound of him living-

An arm wraps around his waist and startles him so bad he’s already whipping around to swing a punch at the first touch, fist going through air when Bucky just barely dodges his head in time to the left, lips curled up in a smirk.

“Easy there, tiger,” he teases.

Steve pants, eyes wide. “ _Bucky_.”

Bucky leans in close and presses a quick kiss to his lips before bringing the-

Cupcake into view?

“Thought I forgot, didn’t you,” Bucky says, all teasing, none accusing, thankfully. Steve’s shoulders relax as he drops his arm with a blown out exhale, eyes sliding shut for a moment.

 _Sorry_ , he wants to say, but opens his eyes instead, giving Bucky a helpless look.

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky says quietly as he closes the distance again, giving Steve another quick kiss, “Happy birthday.”

“You didn’t have to,” Steve starts to protest when Bucky pulls back, but Bucky just kisses him again, _mostly_ killing the protests before Steve can really get started.

“Nat’s got a surprise for you at the Tower,” Bucky says against his lips before pulling back enough to look at him, smirk stretching into a slow grin when Steve makes a face.

“Oh no,” he says.

“Oh yes,” Bucky replies, looking _beyond_ pleased. And since it’s Natasha, the ‘surprise‘ could be anything. “Go take a shower,” he orders, kissing Steve again before pulling away this time, arm sliding from around Steve’s waist, cupcake and all, “I’ll light this.”

Steve sighs but goes and does as he’s told.

He comes back five minutes later with towel-damp hair in jeans and a white t-shirt. As promised, the cupcake’s sitting on the counter with its single, pink and white striped candle lit. Steve raises an eyebrow at it and looks up at Bucky, who’s leaning on his hip against the counter.

“Bought a small pack of birthday candles at the dollar star on the way here,” he answers with a shrug before grinning again, “Now get over here birthday boy, and make a wish.”

“Got everything I need,” Steve mumbles, walking over and bending down to blow out the candle-

A finger presses to his pursed lips and he looks up to find Bucky watching him, eyes soft and unreadable, grin faded into a small, serious smile.

“An actual wish,” he says, and Steve’s eyebrows draw together briefly before he concedes. Bucky’s finger pulls away when Steve’s expression smooths out, Steve looking back down to the candle.

 _I wish_...he thinks, staring at it, pausing for a couple moments before blowing it out. Bucky claps, grinning again, and Steve rolls his eyes, but can’t help smiling back while the candle smoke drifts up lazily between them.

\-----

Natasha, it turns out, had a cake made to fit _exactly_ ninety-eight candles.

Steve blows out every single one in a single breath, face a little red by the time he’s done, looking up after, which is _exactly_ when she snaps a picture.

(She sends him a copy. Bucky’s metal fingers are making bunny ears behind his head, grin just barely in the frame. Steve makes a mental note to print it out and put it next to their bed next to Bucky’s birthday photo from this year).

\-----

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Bucky asks, arms linked together as they walk down the sidewalk.

“No.” Steve smiles, hasn’t really stopped since they left the Tower.

Bucky and Nat were on a deep, undercover mission on his birthday, finally coming back four months after the fact. Neither of them said anything about it and Steve didn’t bring it up. Besides, Tony threw him a huge...something, gala slash “Patriotic Birthday Party”? With red, white, and blue streamers, cake, party hats, _everything_ on the day of, so it was fine. Steve thought Bucky might do something private for it when he got back, but when he didn’t...well, he’s only been back with them for a year now. Steve didn’t want to bring up anything that might make him feel guilty, if he just didn’t remember. It was fine, either way, Steve didn’t need anything more than Bucky coming home safe, just being there at _all_. Steve’s surprised he’s home now, since he and Nat were on another mission somewhere in Portugal. They made it back just in time for New Years.

Which Tony used as an excuse to throw Steve _another_ party.

“I can’t believe Barton got Thor to dance on the table,” Bucky says, already cracking up. Steve grins, then joins in, can’t help it. Bucky’s laughing so open and _free_. It sounds wonderful.

“I can’t believe Sam joined in!” Steve lets out, and Bucky’s shoulder bumps hard into his as he partly collapses against him, shaking with laughter.

“I’m never erasing that footage,” Bucky manages through the tears, wiping at them with his free hand and letting out a long breath on the tail end of his laughter.

They continue the rest of the way in companionable silence, Bucky’s lips still curled up like Steve’s when Steve glances over at him every few steps, just reassuring himself that Bucky’s _here_.

They make it home before any fireworks go off, thankfully, the night approaching dark and quiet beyond their soundproof windows. Steve takes his coat off and hangs it up next to Bucky’s in the entryway, letting Bucky drag him into their living room by the hand after, then letting Bucky pull him close for a long kiss.

“Come to bed with me,” Bucky whispers against his lips, kissing him again in the twilight. Steve slides a hand up and tangles it in Bucky’s hair, gripping the strands gently when Bucky licks at his lower lip.

“Only because you asked so nice,” Steve teases low and quiet.

Bucky huffs a laugh against his lips and then drags him towards and down the hall. Steve kicks the bedroom door shut with the back of his heel. Then the fireworks go off beyond their windows, silent deities exploding in the sky amidst the stars. Bucky steps back until he’s silhouetted near the one-way windows, bites his lower lip and smirks something quietly wicked when he slowly starts removing his clothes, shirt slowly coming up and off first, then his pants and socks. The silent light from the fireworks explodes across his skin, washing sharp lines and smooth planes in a myriad of reflected colors. Steve stares, wants to draw him, paint him, but settles for stumbling forward when Bucky’s smirk turns into a smile and he catches Steve, drags him close, colliding like the fireworks in the sky behind them. And Steve thinks:

_I’m lucky. How did I ever get this lucky?_

\-----

Steve stirs a little as he starts to wake the next morning, slow for a change, instead of his usual up-and-out-in-under-a-minute. He’s warm, so warm, pressed up against something firm and hard, on something soft and smooth and perfectly cushiony. What is- Oh, right, Bucky’s home.

Steve shifts a little and then tries to maneuver around in Bucky’s hold, knees and elbows knocking like unrestrained weights. Bucky grunts quietly and the arms around him tighten, pressing him close-

Bucky stills against him, and then Steve hears a muffled, “ _...Steve?_ ”

Steve groans quietly, wants to slip back down into sleep now that he’s more comfortable, but with Bucky tugging him closer to the surface of _awake_ , he’s starting to really feel that ache in his spine-

“Steve,” Bucky says, low and urgent. Steve’s eyes snap open, tense and alert. He looks up and Bucky stares back, eyes wide and mouth parted a little in surprise.

Steve stares back, the hair on the back of his neck rising on end. “Buck, what is it?”

“You...You’re…” Bucky trails off, flesh hand slowly coming up to rest against his cheek. There’s a nervous tick in Steve’s chest-

Wait. That’s not-

He surges up and Bucky’s hand falls away and Steve raises both of his own, staring down at them on his knees on the bed, eyes wide.

His hands are still the same size, but they’re thinner looking, his _arms_ are thin. He-

He jerks his hands up to his face, feeling it, his hair- It’s longer.

He scrambles off the bed and nearly trips when his knee and foot get tangled in the sheets, feels Bucky try to help briefly before Steve’s off the bed and dashing into the bathroom, hands bracing on the sink as he stares into the mirror.

An old reflection stares back, sweeping bangs brushing down across his forehead, bony shoulders and collarbone prominent, ribs smooth lines visible against his thin skin.

Bucky’s light, familiar steps come close, reflection joining Steve’s in the mirror and Steve’s eyes jump up to his, back straightening (sort of) when he sees the look on his face. Bucky looks surprised but not... _surprised_ surprised.

“...Steve,” Bucky says, swallowing, “What did you wish for?”

Steve blinks, not expecting that at all. “What?”

“Yesterday. The cupcake,” Bucky explains, “What did you wish for when you blew out the candle?”

Steve’s eyebrows tangle, expression clearing when he realizes- “Buck. Where did you get that candle, really?”

Bucky’s eyes dart away briefly before coming back to his in the mirror, looking a little...sheepish. “I might have...bought it from Doctor Strange?”

“Doctor-” Steve cuts off, voice strangled, “ _Buck_.”

“I was trying to make up for being so late!” Bucky lets out, not quite throwing his arms up but looking like he wants to, “I just thought-” He clams up and Steve frowns, turning around to look at him when Bucky turns his eyes away in the mirror.

“Buck,” Steve says, firm but quiet.

“It grants whoever blows it out one wish for one day,” Bucky answers the non-question, eyes shifting back to Steve’s. “I just thought, if anyone deserved something good like that, it was you. You’ve been stressed out for the past year, don’t think I haven’t noticed,” he says, _his_ voice going firm and eyes harder, “You deserved something good, especially after dealing with me and since I was so late with your birthday.”

“Buck…” Steve trails off, snapping his mouth shut, because he was going to say ‘ _But this, this is dangerous_ ’. But Bucky already knows that, but he did it anyway because he…

Steve sighs quietly, turning to look back in the mirror.

“Guess I’m calling in today,” he says to it. Bucky’s arm comes up to curve around his collarbones, pulling Steve back against his- well, stomach, mostly. Steve hasn’t been this short in a long time.

“Is that so bad?” Bucky asks, and Steve starts a little, thinks for a flash of a second that Bucky can read his mind. He sort of can, but that’s not what he’s asking, not wholly.

“...No. Maybe?” Steve asks, unsure, but shrugs when Bucky looks at him in the mirror.

“What did you wish for?” Bucky asks after a few moments of quiet.

“I-...” Steve trails off, eyes slanting to the side. God, it’s weird, familiar but strange for Bucky to be bigger than him again. Or, Steve _smaller_ than _Buck_ again. “I wished you could have something you really wanted.” He looks up and Bucky blinks back, staring at him.

“Really?” Bucky asks quietly. Steve nods and Bucky ducks his head, pressing his lips to the top of Steve’s. It feels surreal.

“What did _you_ wish for?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow. He watches Bucky’s eyes slant away and then close in the mirror.

“I guess I just...I remembered something from before the war, and it made me miss this. I feel like I missed out on something when you took the serum. I didn’t- I don’t want to _change_ you,” he corrects quickly, raising his eyes to look at Steve’s in the mirror, “I just…” he shrugs helplessly, “Wanted to remember what this was like.”

Steve watches him, finally letting himself settle back against Bucky’s front after a minute.

“Like, I remember my Ma used to make latkes for Hanukkah, but I couldn’t really remember the taste until I had one this year. But it didn’t taste the same. I don’t know how I know that, because I can’t remember the way hers used to taste, I just know that it’s different,” Bucky explains, “It’s like...that.”

Steve gets a little more comfortable, even though his spine is twinging and the centers of his feet are aching like they used to. Bucky slides his free hand between them like it’s got a mind of its own and starts massaging Steve’s lower back. Steve’s eyelids flutter shut with a faint groan.

“Sorry,” Bucky says quietly against the top of his head, “I didn’t forget, but I did.”

“It’s alright Buck,” Steve replies on a sigh, “Just keep that up for another hour and we’re good.” He feels more than hears Bucky huff a breath against the top of his head, feels Bucky’s bangs brush the tops of his cheeks.

“I’ll do your feet, too.”

“ _God_ , yes, please.”

\-----

Steve’s all but melted into the mattress an hour later, both of Bucky’s hands warm on his feet when Steve’s cellphone starts vibrating on the night stand. It’s easy to ignore, and he makes a pleased hum when Bucky keeps massaging his feet and ignores it, too. He only stops to answer when his own cellphone starts vibrating, and Steve lets out a mournful groan. Bucky slides a fingertip down the center of one of his feet and Steve’s leg jerks, a sharp sound coming out of his throat.

“Barnes,” Steve hears Bucky answer, a smile hidden in his voice.

Steve can’t hear whoever’s on the other line anymore, but he’s got his right ear in a pillow and his good ear available, so he hears Bucky’s side of the conversation.

“Steve and I aren’t coming in today. No. Yes.” His voice turns slightly sheepish briefly on the last. “No. No. I don’t care what Stark says. Yes. Call Thor. Yes. _No_ ,” Bucky says the last with finality.

Steve thinks he hangs up. He only knows for sure when Bucky doesn’t say anything more and both of his hands return to Steve’s feet. Steve lets out a content sigh, toes wiggling. Bucky huffs a small laugh.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, sounding drugged even to his own ear.

“Nothing they can’t handle without you,” Bucky answers, gentle but firm. Steve makes an inquisitive noise and Bucky runs the tip of his finger down Steve’s foot again in retaliation, Steve’s leg jerking again.

“Stop that.”

“Nope,” Bucky replies, fingers disappearing altogether before skittering up his calves and Steve _yelps_ , sluggishly trying to scramble away across the bed. Bucky grabs his ankle and drags him back like he weighs nothing (he basically does, at the moment), and then goes for his sides. Steve laughs, squirming around. He manages to wiggle around onto his back and catches Bucky’s grin before a wheeze hits him and Bucky stops, letting Steve catch his breath, heart beating an erratic _thumpdathumpthump_ in his chest.

Bucky bends down and presses their foreheads together, grin gone but smile not when Steve cracks open his eyes.

“Is this all you wanted me like this for?” Steve taunts, “Massages and tickle fights?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You tryin’ to get in my pants, Rogers?”

Steve raises both of his own eyebrows and Bucky’s smile turns into a smirk. “Might be,” Steve replies, sliding his hands up the sides of Bucky’s neck and into his hair, massaging his scalp. Bucky gives a full body shudder and breathy groan before sliding his forehead across Steve’s to plant it down next to his on the pillow, letting out a long sigh.

“Keep that up and you can do anything you _want_ ,” Bucky mumbles, and Steve grins.

“Anything?”

“ _Mmm_.”

 _Bucky hasn’t been this loose in a while_ , Steve thinks, eyes softening, though Bucky’s eyes are shut in something nearing bliss, so he can’t see.

Realistically, the change is inconvenient, and Steve’s avoiding thinking too much about it. If the Avengers need him, he can still supply tactical strategies and fight in a pinch, but that’s about it. Being like this _itself_ is...a bit like riding a bicycle, actually feels more normal than his serum body in a lot of ways, but...even with all that, and even though that wish was meant for Steve, he can’t regret it if this, Bucky loose and comfortable and smiling, joking, is the result.

\-----

Steve lets Bucky towel his hair dry after a joint shower, frowning a little, but letting him. Bucky wants to, and Steve’ll only be like this for twenty-four hours, so it’s alright, this time. If it was seventy years ago, he would’ve given Bucky a little bit of hell for it, but...it’s fine, like this. Just for a day.

“I want pancakes. You want pancakes?” Bucky asks behind him.

“I could go for some pancakes,” Steve replies, only because Bucky’s been gone for a few days and Steve got a _break_. Natasha’s probably been dragged to every waffle and pancake house from here to Tokyo by this point. Steve doesn’t envy her.

They shuffle out into the bedroom. Steve puts on some boxers and a t-shirt that’s too large on him and then Bucky’s scooping him up and putting him over his shoulder while Steve lets out an indignant squawk, hands pressing against Bucky’s back to push himself up.

“Buck!”

Bucky just whistles and carries him out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen. Steve lets himself get distracted by the way his ass moves, the way Bucky’s sweatpants cling low to his temptingly sharp hips.

\-----

“I feel like this is more your birthday than mine,” Steve says around a mouthful of pancake.

Bucky looks at him, taking a long sip of his orange juice. “So,” he says after he puts his glass down, cutting his fork into his stack of pancakes, “What do _you_ want to do?”

Steve rests his elbow on the table, cheek in hand while he chews thoughtfully.

\-----

“Steve, no.”

“Steve, yes.”

Bucky sighs. “Fine. But we’re taking a five minute break every ten minutes. And whoever wins has to…” he trails off, staring straight ahead in thought. His smirk is a small, terrible thing. He looks over and Steve straightens, stands his ground. “Do the dishes for the next three months, regardless of missions.”

Steve squares his shoulders. “You’re on.”

\-----

Steve ducks and rolls behind the couch just before the laser can hit his chest, grinning as he takes off for the stairs. He doesn’t hear Bucky following, wouldn’t be able to anyway even _if_ he had his enhanced hearing, but he can _feel_ him following and leaps over the rail on the last flight, taking off and dropping to skid underneath the pool table, firing as he goes. He _almost_ gets Bucky’s laser tag sensor in the center of his chest but Bucky dives to the right at the last second and rolls behind the Captain America pinball machine. Bucky’s only playing one handed and with half his speed to make things a _little_ more fair, but it’s still not much of a handicap.

“Give up yet?!” Steve calls over, peeking up over the pool table with his gun resting on top, eye to the sight.

“ _Hell no!_ ” Bucky calls back, streaking out from behind the pinball machine and making a break for the corner armchair. Steve fires but misses, letting out a curse. Bucky practically _cackles_ , nestling into his corner defense. His own face peeks up over the top of the chair, gun coming up to mimic Steve’s, hair back in a ponytail. “Seems we’re at a stalemate,” he says.

“ _Tch_ ,” Steve scoffs, not moving an inch, “How do you suggest we settle this?”

Bucky gives a playful hum, considering. “Could just give up for once in your life. It’s only laser tag.”

“Says the asshole who tackled me to the couch in round one,” Steve retorts.

“It’s not my fault you blindly entered enemy territory,” Bucky returns.

“ _Pft_ , ‘enemy territory’ he says,” Steve grumbles, can’t hear it but _sees_ Bucky snicker, “We _both_ know the couch and kitchen are _neutral zones_.”

“I never agreed to that for this game,” Bucky replies lightly.

Steve bawks. “You shit!”

“Who’s the shit?” Bucky quips, grinning behind his gun, “Get ready to do dishes for _three months, Rogers_.”

“ _Not on your life_.”

\-----

Bucky wins.

Steve sighs so heavily he almost folds in on himself.

“Read’em and weep.” Bucky grins.

Steve gives him the Stink-Eye.

\-----

Steve sighs, settling back against Bucky’s chest as Bucky’s arm comes up to wrap and his waist, mug of hot chocolate held warm between Steve’s hands. Bucky takes a sip from his own, shifting a little to get more comfortable. Steve takes a careful sip and looks outside, the sun just barely still peaking up in the horizon, purple and pink and gold streaks fading to dark blue and violet across the sky. “So, how was your day?” he asks.

Bucky gives a low, brief hum, toes shifting a little against the outsides of Steve’s. “Perfect,” he answers, voice lowering, “You?”

“Perfect,” Steve answers, smiling against the rim of his mug, the scent of hot chocolate wafting up warm and welcome below his nose. Bucky laughed and smiled, played and relaxed, had _fun_. Steve did, too.

The sun finally goes down and then the fireworks start up again, flashing bright and soundless in the distance. Steve settles back a little more against Bucky, Bucky’s arm tightening around his waist, and rests his head back on Bucky’s chest, sighing quietly. He smiles when he feels Bucky’s nose skim up along his cheek, eyes sliding shut when Bucky’s lips press there, soft and warm and gentle, stubble a little rough but a contrast that sends a small shiver down Steve’s aching, crooked spine.

“Happy New Year, Buck,” he says quietly.

Bucky presses another kiss to his cheek, his temple. “Happy New Year, Steve.”

Bucky got his wish, but...Steve got his, too.

\-----

Steve wakes, slow and warm, curled up against something hot and firm that’s rising and falling in gentle waves beneath him, almost lulling him back to sleep. He shifts around a little and cracks his eyes open instead, Bucky’s arm tightening around his waist, his own eyes cracking open to look down at Steve, too.

“Morning, Buck.” Steve smiles.

Bucky slowly smiles back, just as warm as where they’re pressed together, a little awkward with Steve’s returned size, but so comfortable all the same. “Morning,” he returns, dipping his head the inch or two he needs to kiss him. Steve returns it, sighing quietly through his nose.

It feels like it’s gonna be a good one.

\-----

“I _demand_ another round,” Steve declares, “Loser does the dishes for the next _six_ months.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow from where he’s sitting at the kitchen island, swallowing his bite of cereal. “Are you sure you wanna do this, Steve?”

Steve raises his laser tag gun, resting his other hand on his hip, stance wide in his slept in boxers and t-shirt, harness strapped across his chest ( _and_ adjusted to fit). He smirks. “You’re an amazing shot Buck, but this is _my_ terrain.”

Bucky smirks back, small and terrible, and slowly stands up from his stool. “You may have bought the place, but I staked it out for six months before knocking on your door,” he replies, slowly walking to the sink to rinse out his bowl and put it in the dishwasher, _prowling_ around the kitchen island to Steve, taking the second gun and harness off the end corner of the counter next to him. “Get ready to clean the dishes, Rogers,” he purrs.

“Not on your life,” Steve replies, noses practically touching.

\-----

“ _Damn it!_ ”

\-----

Steve loses again, but Bucky makes it up to him by joining him in the shower. Afterwards, Steve makes him pancakes ( _and does the dishes_ ).


End file.
